Windows of the Soul
by AcolyteOfAzura
Summary: Staring contests are fun, right? Nope. They are to be taken seriously, and when someone breaks a rule while winning fair and square... They are put in their place. No questions asked.


It was torture. It was painful. It was frustrating. It was tense... It was a game.

Don't move. Don't blink. Don't speak.

You cannot avert your eyes to anywhere but your opponent's. Nowhere but the two blaring targets in front of you. You can't let yourself become distracted. Can't laugh, smile, or anything. As time passes, each will be more inclined to quit. The pain may be too much to bear, or the menacing thoughts you think you can read from the other's eyes may force you to back away. If you do, you lose… you will be humiliated. You will be weak. Weak of mind. Weak of soul.

* * *

><p>There they sat, face-to-face, like statues frozen in an eternally silent argument. A few others had gathered around, to watch the watchers, to see who would lose their nerve. Or lose their resistance to fidget, or the moisture in their eyes. It seemed an eternity before one finally gave in. Or up. Either word could work.<p>

A split second of an eyelash fluttering ended it all.

The winner jumped up in a whirl of green, and danced about, taunting the loser as though he wanted him to accuse him of cheating.

"Alright! I get it! You don't need to rub it in my face!" The loser shouted. "But you've only defeated me so far, and yet you proclaim yourself as the Champion of Staring?" He rubbed at his eye sockets maniacally, and the few tears formed out of relief only left a trail of embarrassment down his cheeks.

"No need to get you frilly panties in a bunch, Marth, because I've already defeated everyone who hasn't found the guts to face me!" Link boasted, he turned to their tiny audience to make sure his challenge was understood. They knew that, in order to kick this guy off of his imaginary pedestal, someone had to beat him in the Staring Contest. The Hylian's icy blue eyes were as good a match for most, and had proved formidable enough to throw the last champion, Marth, off his game… but not without putting up a good fight. The prince wiped his face off again as he passed through the gathering crowd, trying to forget his failure that would surely incite ridicule from his peers later.

Link wore his slight, arrogant grin, and turned his gaze toward the smallest of the spectators: Lucas. The psychic boy shuffled back a little, coming to a abrupt stop against Falco's side, "N-no… I don't… want to…" Lucas scurried away in the direction Marth went, and didn't dare stop to see who would volunteer.

"Won't anyone step up? Usually there's always a smasher champin' at the bit to enter the staring contest!"

Silence.

"Don't jump up and yell at me all at once, guys!" Still, the sarcastic comment was deflected off of them like an arrow to a metal shield. "I guess that's it then. I'm the champion! If no one decides to take me on, this is it!" There, he struck the weakness: finality. No one liked something that was permanent.

The crowd stirred a little, and shoved one of the former competitors into the open. Armed with the comments "You can beat him," "Girl power!" and "Just kick his scrawny a** already," she sat down at the table, followed by Link, and prepared herself.

Two minutes: seven seconds. Samus blinked.

Once more, Link stood up with the air of a sore winner, this time giving himself a round of applause that certainly wasn't deserved. "Ha-ha! Again! I win!"

The group started to argue, and out came several other competitors who had to stand in line to face the Hylian hero. Of course, submission wasn't the Smasher's way to handle things. All drama and shenanigans were metaphorically kicked in the crotch before someone got hurt and someone thought they were hot stuff. They were Brothers. Sisters. Equals. No one was better than another, so it was everyone else's job to keep things in balance. Clearly, Link was about to break that unspoken tenet with his self-centeredness. He was one of the first Smashers, so he was allowed a little leeway, but he'd tiptoed over that clearly defined line already.

Nevertheless, it seemed as though he was unstoppable. One down. Two. Three.

Fox, Pit, Captain Falcon, all beaten. Even Ganondorf went down.

The number of challengers dwindled, and Link took his time and leisure as he waited out the storm of angry opponents. He was the personification of a conceited victory; he felt he wouldn't ever meet anyone that could out-stare him.

Notice that he only _felt__, _but never _knew. _

After eight games with no sign of defeat, Link was about to meet his match. A princess stepped forward; but grace and elegance were forgotten in her silent fury. Here, she mostly dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, as she really had no one to impress with flowing gowns and royal garbs. Zelda even stared Link down as she stalked to the table. The contest began, and she narrowed her brows and sharpened her stare into a glare filled with a thousand daggers… Link could not hold without ignoring it.

At three minutes, the timer stopped. A draw.

However, Zelda didn't let up at all- she stood up and her glare only intensified. Link sank down in his chair with a growing raw fear of her wrath, and as he did so, he uttered the word "mercy".

"Humility. Learn it," was Zelda's only reply.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Ooh! Look up there! An overly dramatic oneshot! Ha. Ha. I'm dumb. With about a microscopic bit of inspiration, I pulled this out of seemingly nowhere. Sooooo... yeah. Review if you liked it, and even if you didn't, I still appreciate a little criticism. If you see any mistakes, tell me so I can correct them! And have a nice day. :3


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